Dear October,
I did a very minimal amount of things today. It wasn’t unpleasant, so this isn’t complaint. It’s just a change from the several days previously.
I’m at my grandmother’s house today, October. There’s something about this house that feels like home. It’s not quite as home as my own house is, but it feels close. I can close my eyes and walk around the house in my mind, knowing all the little details I’ve memorized over my lifetime.
This house is very close to the O’Hare airport, which means it’s constantly on a flight path. The sound of airplanes very close overhead is more comforting than the silence. One is passing overhead right now. I wish I knew where the planes were coming from or going to (because despite watching them from my bedroom window for many years, I still have no idea whether they’re taking off or landing, but I suspect that they’re landing), because I’d love to be on a plane that flew over my grandmother’s house. I’m sure I’d annoy whomever was sitting next to me. I know that house; the one right there. I’ve spent a lot of time there. I do that whenever I fly over my old high school, and that’s a far less special place compared to this house.
When my cousin and I were kids, my grandmother kept chocolates in little tins inside the strange bookshelf/half wall by the virtually unused front door. (I say that because I can never remember going out it. I either use the garage door or the back door. I don’t even know how to unlock the front door, but that’s where the mail comes to.) I don’t remember when the chocolates stopped being there, but I do remember the first time I went looking for one and found plants sitting in the hollowed out space that is the top of that wall thing. I remember feeling like I had grown up in a way I didn’t expect to. It very likely had nothing to do with me; my grandmother may have wanted to put plants there, or she didn’t want the chocolates to live there anymore. Still, it felt strange.
I’m not good with change. I can normally count on this house to not change much, even though my visits are normally months apart. I haven’t noticed any major changes this time, but I was just here a handful of weeks ago. The leaves have barely started changing, so there is some comfort in that.
I’ll talk to you tomorrow, my dear October.
commas and ampersands 